Helping, grieving, and hurting
by kidyouhavenoidea
Summary: SPOILERS FOR S3! Tom and Mary coping together after the deaths of Sybil and Matthew, and them realizing it has to be enough for this lifetime now.


Mary talked in her sleep. Many people might have thought it was uncharacteristic for her – after all, Mary was always very restrained these days, an exterior as hard as stone – but it did not surprise Tom. Mary kept too many emotions hidden inside of her and only knew how to open up in front of very few people. And it was true that it was impossible to hide all of her pain, all the time, every day. Life just didn't work that way.

Tom was lying next to her, stroking her brown hair gently and hoping that he could do something to help her. Still, at the same time, he knew that there was nothing to be done, no way of erasing all the sorrow Mary had to cope with every day. And he knew from his own experience that even if the pain faded away for one day, it would return with guilt ever so strong and daunting. That was one of the reasons why they had ended up together; that was why they slept next to each other in Mary's wide bed, hidden from prying eyes. They understood each other; they knew how important Sybil and Matthew had been, even though the whole world begged them to forget them, to move on. They were told to live while they were still alive, were informed that their late wife and husband didn't want them to suffer forever, either.

But the others didn't understand him, only Mary did. When he was touching her, he felt like he could feel some little sparks of life dancing in his chest even though he had thought he had lost them forever. He was falling in love with Sybil's sister but it in a different way than he would have fallen for any other woman. In some odd way he felt like this love was acceptable and everything else would have been wrong (people around them would probably see things differently). When he was with Mary, he felt like he maybe could be fixed after all, at least a little, though at the same time he could feel himself breaking down again. Mary helped him to keep Sybil's memory alive every day, helped him to remember his sorrow even when he secretly wished he could be happy again. And he did the same for Mary, didn't let her forget about Matthew but gave her strength to carry all the weight she had on her plate. That was how they wanted it to be. They knew their part was to suffer so they wanted to suffer side by side, burn together in their eternal hell; and Mary's silence and her cold lips, the fingers that scratched Tom's back and all the words spoken in her sleep made Tom feel alive. They gave him strength to face the world until he could focus yet again on his own thoughts and his own longing in the shadows of the night.

"Matthew", Mary might groan in her sleep, "please let me drive." Or "please don't go, not just yet". Or "Matthew, it's your turn to go and see what the baby wants." Sometimes Mary might only cry or moan in her sleep without any coherent words and still Tom would listen, lie naked where Matthew used to sleep and wish that everything had gone differently. But they had to face the truth and live with it – and besides, he could no longer let go of Mary, he would fight for her like he had fought for Sybil. He only hoped this was a fight he had a chance to win.

Mary reminded him of Sybil, of course. They were both extremely stubborn and brave, compassionate and strong women. Mary was beautiful with her pale skin and brown eyes, almost as beautiful as Sybil with her lively laughter and bright gaze. They were so much alike and still completely different. And Tom knew that when Mary would wake up, she would kiss him like Sybil had done, would pull him against her and with this single gesture ask Tom to make love to her. Tom would do all those things and for a moment he would think only about Mary and the way he loved her so much it was beginning to hurt, too. After it was over, he would get up and leave for his own room, praying that none of the servants noticed him. He and Mary would lie the rest of the night in their own beds, watching the photos on their nightstands and wondering how peculiar the human emotions could be.

For the rest of the night Tom would miss Mary, just like every night nowadays – would miss her almost as much as he missed Sybil.

And as far as this lifetime was concerned, it had to be enough for him.


End file.
